


A Legacy to Protect

by MizushimaHikari



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Breaking the Fourth Wall, College, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7096780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizushimaHikari/pseuds/MizushimaHikari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Aaron was young, he knew he had to protect his family’s legacy. When he meets Alexander Hamilton, he is forced to question his very soul. Protecting that legacy becomes more painful than he can imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You or Me

Some days, Aaron wishes his parents had survived his infancy, just so he could know what they were like. Whenever he asks his grandfather, he only tells him, “Your mother was a genius, and your father commanded respect. You must uphold their legacy.” 

It doesn’t take Aaron long to stop asking his grandfather. 

Still, he wonders. He only has one picture of his mother and father. As far as Aaron could tell, he is a spitting image of his father, both with silky dark skin and high cheekbones. He has his mother’s twinkling dark eyes, though. In the photo, his parents are somber, yet Aaron sees a hint of a smirk in Esther Edwards Burr’s mouth, a few wrinkles around Aaron Burr, Sr.’s eyes. Did they laugh and smile? Did they sing and dance on hot summer nights and at winter balls? 

Ever since the car accident that killed his entire family, Aaron has lived with his grandfather. His grandfather is the dictator of Aaron’s life. Once, when Aaron returns home bearing a B+ on a history test (he simply couldn’t remember the US Presidents), his grandfather whips his left hand until his palm bleeds, all while preaching, “How can you protect your legacy with this mediocre garbage?”

That night, Aaron sleeps fitfully, clutching his left hand with his right, his dreams an old yet common recollection. His subconscious revisits a scene from early childhood. Judging by his height, he must not have been older than six. He walks back from church with his grandfather, Preacher Edwards, when they pass two young men holding hands. 

Aaron’s grandfather leans down and whispers, “May God cast those wicked men into hell.” 

Aaron looks up in confusion. “But Grandfather Edwards, how can they be wicked? They look happy.” 

Edwards slaps Aaron across his face. “How dare you question the will of God? When they engage in homosexuality, they reject Christ. They will suffer the torments of hell.” At that moment, young Aaron cannot help but envision the couple bathed in flaming oil. 

Aaron awakens drenched in sweat, remembering why he learned to keep his opinions to himself. Better to keep his plans close to his chest than to back the wrong horse and risk corporal punishment. Better to protect himself. 

Aaron, as a result of his grandfather’s totalitarian methods, excels in high school. He ascends the ranks of his school’s debate team and reaches the national stage – he becomes the national champion in speed debating. Every week or so, some local newspaper runs a story on the young talent, praising his charisma, silky voice, and ability to defend any position. He’s a rising star. 

Tragedy strikes. The renowned Jonathan Edwards dies of a heart attack. All of Newark mourns the loss of their minister, their beacon of morality. Aaron mourns alongside them. He plans a grand funeral for his grandfather and plays the somber, composed host during the event. 

No one suspects that Aaron Burr feels mostly relief from Preacher Edward’s passing. 

Aaron channels his grandfather’s philosophy into a stunning personal statement for his college applications. Princeton admits him early, and he accepts. He’ll finally be able to preserve the legacy. 

*

Aaron’s first college debate tournament takes place on a blisteringly hot day more suitable for the Caribbean than NYC. He and his teammates – Thomas Jefferson and James Madison – strut into the building. Thomas drapes his arms over Aaron’s and James’s shoulders as he loudly predicts Princeton’s victory. James pulls Thomas in by his waist and mumbles, “Thomas, the other teams are glaring.” 

Thomas pinches James’s cheek and retorts, “Well, I can’t help it if I’m being honest. I got my charm, and you’re a fucking genius.”

James begins to cough. 

As it turns out, James is right. Princeton trounces Cornell and Harvard (much to the dismay of John Adams, that fat motherfucker), easily qualifying for the final round. Thomas leaves the room with a flourish, proclaiming “Sometimes I wonder why I even bring the thunder.” Madison agrees. 

They take a break before the last round. While Thomas teases James, Aaron scans the other teams for familiar faces. He recognizes everyone until he notices Columbia’s team. Aaron certainly knows Angelica Schuyler, New York Senator Schuyler’s oldest daughter, and John Laurens, whom Aaron frankly thinks ought to stop running his mouth, but he simply doesn’t know this last guy. A caramel-complexioned man with inscrutable eyes and luscious raven hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. When the man’s eyes meet Aaron’s, Aaron feels shivers of intrigue traverse his spine. All too soon, the break ends. 

Aaron shuffles into the room and looks up to see none other than the team from Columbia. The stranger stares at him, his eyes gradually dawning with recognition. Aaron is suddenly thankful people can’t tell when he’s blushing. 

Professor Washington, the moderator of the final round, enters the room. “Congratulations on making it to the final round of this year’s Ivy League Debate Tournament! From Princeton, we have Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and Aaron Burr. From Columbia, we have Angelica Schuyler, John Laurens, and Alexander Hamilton. The subject for today’s debate is as follows. You have recently formed a new nation composed of several provinces, each with their own economy and culture. You, as a national leader, can either allow provinces to manage their own debts or assume provincial debts. Columbia, you will argue in favor of assuming debts. Princeton, you are the opposition. Princeton, you have the floor.”

Thomas launches into a spiel on protecting the liberties of individual provinces and extolling the merits of decentralized government. Aaron thinks to himself that assuming provincial debts makes more sense than not, but no matter; debating is about defending a position well, not whether you believe it. During Thomas’s argument, Aaron observes the opposing team for points of weakness. Schuyler is a seasoned debating veteran and keeps her cool. On the other hand, Laurens and Hamilton – Alexander Hamilton, that’s his name – are visibly furious. By the time Thomas is done, Laurens is clearly shaking. Hamilton slams his fist down like a gavel. 

“Just you wait, Jefferson!” Hamilton interjects. Everyone stares at him. Aaron inexplicably feels drawn to his radiant energy. 

“Thomas, that was a real nice presentation. Welcome to the present, suppose we’re running a real nation.” Hamilton doesn’t hesitate in tearing down Thomas’s argument. He exhibits no restraint, waxing poetic on the virtues of national identity. His sentences leave Aaron defenseless. Aaron melts under Hamilton’s voice. It is a delicious tenor with jagged edges, smooth yet crisp. Aaron wants to envelop himself in his zeal. At the end of his monologue, everyone in the room is speechless. Columbia wins in a landslide. 

Thomas and James leave the room in shock. Aaron follows a few steps behind, but someone taps him on the shoulder. He whirls around and sees Hamilton. 

“Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr?” He grabs Aaron’s hand and begins to shake it. “I’m Alexander Hamilton! Everyone calls me Alex!”

Aaron notices Alex’s hand emanates warmth, just like the rest of him. And somehow, he’s okay with this stranger touching his hand. “Yes, I’m Aaron. How do you know of me?”

“I heard you graduated early to go to Princeton. How’d you do it?” 

“It was my parents’ dying wish before they passed.” Aaron grimaces inside over his rehearsed, dull answer. 

“You’re an orphan, of course! I’m an orphan.”

Coughing pierces the tender moment. They look up and see Thomas and James standing in the doorway. James coughs into a handkerchief, and Thomas stands with his arms crossed, tapping his foot. Aaron leaves the room without another word. 

An hour later, Aaron receives a friend request on Facebook. 

*

Aaron and Alex develop a tenuous friendship. Over their first few Facebook conversations, which Alex initiates, Aaron learns that Alex is an international student from St. Kitts and Nevis who, frankly, loves the shit out of America and wants to become an American citizen and politician. Aaron always extricates himself from conversations as quickly as he can. And yet, their conversations gradually lengthen into intricate affairs, bubbles of repartee outside of their hectic college lives. In spite of himself, Aaron begins to look forward to chatting with his newfound friend and rival. 

The night before the 70th Tony Awards, Alex coaxes Aaron into an argument about who deserves to win Best Leading Actor in a Musical. Alex insists the ambitious polymath ought to win. In a moment that surprises Aaron himself, he backs a more cautious, morally ambiguous character. 

“I hate that guy! He’s so indecisive! I have no idea what he stands for!” Alex contends. 

“You want an arrogant loudmouth bother to win the Tony,” Aaron retorts. 

Twenty minutes into the dispute, Aaron concedes. He doesn’t see them agreeing. Alex interprets that as victory. Aaron feels so alive, he doesn’t mind Alex’s gloating. 

At the next debate tournament, Thomas notices Aaron and Alex sharing a set of earbuds and listening to a rap battle from their favorite Tony-nominated musical. He looks about ready to start a fight, when James appears behind him, holds his elbow, and says, “Thomas, leave them alone. They’re like us.”

Thomas grudgingly obliges. 

*

Most days, when Aaron checks his Facebook, Alex messages, “YO YO YO WHATS UP” before telling Aaron about his day. 

Today, he writes, “Can we confer? I want to ask you for your help.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow, then dashes off a quick, “Sure. What’s going on?”

“Do you promise not to tell another soul what I’m telling you?” Alex demands. 

“No one else was in the room where it happened,” Aaron reassures. 

“You know how Angelica’s dating Lafayette and her sister Eliza’s dating Hercules and they both just seem really happy?” Alex has never sounded so bashful. Aaron suspects Alex is tugging on his ponytail right now. 

Aaron’s heart feels slightly heavier. He pauses before typing out, “Are you asking me for girl advice?” He can’t say he’s shocked that Alex is running into dating problems.

“In a way, yes. You’re a better speaker than me. You’re succinct, persuasive. I know I talk too much.”

“Ask Lafayette or Hercules. They would know your situation better than I would, and they seem reliable with the ladies.” Indeed, Aaron realized, he had never thought about women or dating. 

“I did! I’m just not sure that everything they said applies! You see…”

“Yes?”

“I want to ask out John Laurens.”

Aaron grips the edge of his desk as if he would plunge into an abyss if he didn’t. Alex was gay? A stern voice preaching “Cast these wicked men into hell” swirls around in Aaron’s mind. He shakes his head, holds the vicious thought inside and away from the world, and responds, “I’m certain your friends’ advice is still sound. You’ll be fine, Alex.” 

He then feigns a headache and goes to bed early. In his dreams, Alex is tied to the mast of a decrepit ship, except the ship is in lava and the ship is made of fire and the ropes binding Alex to the mast are also fire and everything is on fire. A turbulent wind tries to blow the fire out every which way, yet the ship keeps drifting away. Aaron screams in silence. 

Aaron jerks awake, only to discover he slept through all his classes and has a fever and nausea. He picks up his phone to dash off a few quick emails to his professors. He’s about to pass out when his phone buzzes with a link Thomas has texted him. 

The link leads Aaron to John Laurens’s Facebook timeline, where Alex has posted a two thousand word post professing his love. Aaron scrolls through the comments, where after twenty comments saying “FIRST!!!111!!” and “alex what r u doin,” he finds Laurens has written, “Alex, it sure is rude of you to steal my love without my consent. That being said, I’m pretty lenient with the people I like, so you’re off the hook this time ;D” He scrolls up to like Alex’s post, (however ridiculous he thinks it is, he should support his friends, or so he tells himself), but he scrolls up too far and sees a selfie where Alex is curled up in Laurens’ embrace in what appears to be – what must be – one of their dorms. 

Aaron likes the post and suddenly hurls his phone at the wall. He pulls the covers over his head and cries himself to sleep over his friend’s eternal damnation. 

*

Despite every fiber of his body telling him not to, Aaron continues to talk to Alex as normal. He congratulates Alex on his new relationship, which sets Alex off on a monologue about Laurens. Somehow, Aaron listens and listens (Alex always talks in paragraphs) until Alex asks Aaron about his stomach flu. And even though Aaron is slightly queasy, he gladly volunteers a slice of his own life to his friend. From then on, conversations are as bittersweet as dark chocolate. He can bear listening to Alex’s sinful tendencies as long as he can keep him in his life. 

A few months later, Alex is confiding (yet again!) with Aaron about his relationship. (Alex rants every week about how Laurens just isn’t into musicals.) “I like John a lot, but he’s got no backbone. He really likes science and wants to be a doctor, but he’s a polysci major like you and me just cuz that’s what his old man wants.” 

“It’s hard to betray your father’s expectations. His family has a political legacy, doesn’t it?” 

“I don’t want him to throw away his shot! He’d be a great doctor!”

“You don’t know what his family is like, Alexander. It’s possible that he could lose them if he disobeyed.” Aaron inexplicably adds, “I know my grandfather would have disowned me if I were a homosexual.”

“Wait WHAAAT?” Alex sputters. 

Aaron can’t believe he just revealed that. When in doubt, dance and obfuscate. “My grandfather was a preacher. It was a common stance for a man of his occupation and generation.”

“No offense, but I’m glad he’s dead,” Alex types back. Aaron doesn’t have the heart to tell him that one, he agrees, and two, Jonathan Edwards’s voice lives on in his mind. 

“…and I’m glad you’re not a homophobe. I dunno how you could stand Jeffs or Mads otherwise.” 

“Huh?” 

“Have you never noticed? They’re totally gay for each other.” 

“…I see.”

“OMG you never noticed! That’s okay :P”

After Aaron ends the conversation, he Facebook-stalks Thomas. His current profile picture is himself and James at a recent formal, James dressed in a classic black suit, and Thomas decked out in his tight, lurid violet satin monstrosity of formalwear. Thomas drapes his arm over James’s shoulders like a superhero cape, and James rests his hands on top of the much taller man’s arms. Their eyes twinkle, and Thomas’s hair looks extra springy. They remind Aaron of that couple he saw over a decade ago. 

No matter. Facebook pictures mean little. Aaron clicks the “About” tab, then the “Family and Relationships” button. 

“In a relationship with James Madison.” Oh, shit. Aaron groans. How could he be this daft? 

That night, Aaron dreams that Alex is arguing with Thomas and James about the French Revolution, but they’re unaware that the room they’re in is on fire and Aaron can’t get in the room where it’s all happening and save him…

*

Spring passes by and fades into a glorious, sensual summer. Alex and Aaron both have internships in NYC; Aaron miraculously has a job at a corporate law firm, and Alex writes for the New York Post. They’re both working long hours, yet they meet up every Friday night in Aaron’s tiny apartment to drink and listen to musical soundtracks. They alternate choosing the music. Two weeks ago, Alex chose In the Heights. Last week, Aaron chose next to normal. This week, Alex chooses The Book of Mormon, and they are cackling and hooting over the ridiculous lyrics and scenario and everything. 

Once the music ends and the curtain of night falls, they talk for the rest of the night. Alex mentions that Laurens is pursuing his dream of being a doctor in Haiti over the summer. Aaron, against his own mind’s wishes, tells Alex his inner thoughts. He felt intense relief at his grandfather’s funeral. He misses his parents even though they are strangers. He doesn’t like being third wheel whenever he’s with Thomas and James. He wants to be powerful and have a say in important decisions, but he can’t explain why. Alex listens; he’s a good listener when he wants to be. 

It’s almost dawn. Aaron has shared everything he has words for, but there’s some other indescribable feeling permeating his body and forming on his tongue. This thing – whatever it is – wants to escape the confines of Aaron’s mind, so he clamps his mouth shut until he can swallow down this tangible intangible. “See you next week, Alex?”

“Sure thing!” Alex gets up and almost falls. Aaron catches and steadies him. After Alex regains his sense of balance, he flashes Aaron a megawatt smile and heads out. 

Aaron sighs. Maybe he’ll figure out what he wanted to say today by next week. 

*

It’s Friday again. NYC is blisteringly hot and humid. Aaron works as hard as he can, but he just can’t work that hard when his clothing sticks to his body. He’s thrilled to return to his apartment, turn on the A/C, and change his stuffy three-piece suit for a tight white T-shirt and fitted jeans. As he awaits Alex’s arrival, he checks news websites. As usual, the world is falling apart: over the day, the DOW fell by several hundred, a hurricane devastated several countries in the Caribbean, and Congress failed to raise the debt limit. 

When Alex doesn’t show up on time, Aaron initially doesn’t worry. The last few times Alex was running late, he left Aaron a message, so Aaron checks his texts. This time, there’s nothing. He then checks his Facebook for messages, only to discover that Alex hasn’t been on Facebook for over a day. Now, Aaron panics. Alex is usually always on Facebook. Did he get sick? Did he get into an accident? After a few deep breaths, he searches his phone for Alex’s summer address, figures out the route from his place to Alex’s, and rushes out of his apartment. 

Aaron reaches Alex’s apartment, a dingy hovel on the other side of NYC. He raps his knuckles on the door three times. “Alex? It’s me, Aaron. Are you in there?”

A few moments of silence pass. Aaron is ready to leave when Alex opens the door and wordlessly lets him in. The entire apartment is dark except for the screen of Alex’s laptop. Alex’s eyes are bloodshot and red around the edges, his glasses (which Aaron never knew Alex had until now), clearly tear-stained, and his usually luscious hair, a frazzled mess. 

“What’s going on?” Aaron demands. 

Alex points to his laptop. He has two tabs open, one Laurens’s Facebook, and the other a link about a hurricane. Aaron skims the article. 

Hurricane Slams Haiti, Leaves Devastation in Wake

Category 5 Hurricane Lee destroyed much of Haiti today… In Port-au-Prince alone, one million are estimated dead…Lee flooded most of the capital’s infrastructure, including its municipal buildings and hospitals…two Americans, John Laurens Philip Miranda, have been found dead, and another eight are missing and presumed dead. 

Alex bursts into tears, wailing, “It’s all my fault!” 

Aaron, in an unprecedented move, embraces Alex and murmurs, “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.” Aaron’s never been this close to another human being, and even in this nightmare scenario, he enjoys Alex’s warmth. 

“It is my fault,” Alex dissents. “I was the one who talked John into going to Haiti to pursue his dream. I should have never said anything…” He hugs Aaron’s arm the way a koala clings to a branch for dear life and buries his face in Aaron’s sleeve. 

“Hush. It’s not your fault.” Aaron holds Alex closer. They sit like that for hours. Alex intermittently sobs into Aaron’s shirt, and Aaron strokes Alex’s hair. 

Alex breaks the silence. “When I was seventeen, a hurricane destroyed my town. I didn’t drown. I couldn’t seem to die.”  
“You’ll survive this. You’re strong. Lots of people care about you. I care about you.”

More silence. Suddenly, Alex turns his head and places his hands on the back of Aaron’s head and neck. Before Aaron can process any of it, Alex kisses Aaron, biting his lower lip. Aaron tastes the stench of beer wafting around Alex. 

Aaron pushes Alex away once he’s aware of what’s going on. “No, I’m not going to take advantage of you in your current state.” 

But his words go unnoticed – Alex falls into a drunken stupor in his arms. Aaron lifts Alex bridal-style, for the first time aware of how small and fragile he is. He moves his friend to the bed and spreads the covers over his form. Alex’s face is at peace; he doesn’t look like his usual, argumentative, anxious self. Aaron leans down and kisses his forehead. He spends the night on Alex’s couch, wishing his jeans weren’t so uncomfortable. 

In the morning, Aaron wakes up to the sound of knocking. He winces at the intrudiing, insolent sunlight, and opens the door. Angelica and a girl who looks just like her, probably Eliza, wait on the doorstep. The girl he doesn’t know holds a basket of baked goods. 

“Burr?” Angelica accuses. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you, although I presume you’re here for the same reason I am. I’ll take my leave.” Burr responds defensively. He exits with as much flair he can muster. He turns towards them and says, “Take care of Alexander,” before walking away. 

They work through the unimaginable. Aaron and Alex resume their Friday meetings. Alex tells Laurens’ story, piece by piece, and Aaron listens, all while ignoring the inner voice that keeps saying Laurens was punished for his sin. Alex doesn’t seem to remember that night, so Aaron does not bring it up. 

Summer bleeds into fall, and Aaron starts sophomore year. A month into the semester, Angelica sends Aaron a link to Columbia’s newspaper. It is a gorgeous eulogy Alex has written for Laurens. After that, Alex steadily returns to normal. 

*

Thomas, James, and Aaron are in NYC again for the Ivy League Debate Tournament. They’ve just reclaimed their title from Columbia (Alex and Angelica are both wicked fast debaters, but Eliza’s not nearly as fast). Right after the award ceremony, Alex approaches Aaron almost timidly. “Hey, you know that amazing musical that’s sold out for the next year?”

“Yes, what about it?” Aaron asks. 

“Well, Angelica’s and Eliza’s dad has tickets for tonight, and they invited me and they have an extra ticket and I was wondering…wouldyougowithme?” Alex blushes furiously. 

Aaron is astonished. How did the Schuyler sisters get tickets to that musical? Tickets are worth several thousand dollars each nowadays. Hiding his excitement, he says, “If you’re certain there’s no one else you’d rather have, I’ll take you up on that offer.” 

For an instant, Alex looks like the happiest puppy dog in the world. “Uh, so, I guess you’ll meet us at 7:00 at Richard Rodgers Theatre then?” 

“Alright. Smile more.” 

Aaron trudges through the crowd back to his teammates when a perfectly manicured hand grasps his shoulder. He spins around to see Eliza with one eyebrow raised. “I heard you’re coming with us tonight.”

Aaron naturally chooses the vaguest response he can think of. “Yes. I’ve heard good things about this musical.” 

Eliza stares. “You have no idea what Alex says about you, do you?”

“We’re good friends. I imagine he says nice things.” 

Eliza walks off, mumbling what Aaron thinks are “blind” and “clueless.” 

Aaron makes his way back to Thomas and James, who are holding hands. They head back to their hotel room (courtesy of Thomas, that pompous rich fuck). It’s less of a room and more a suite, with a living room and a bedroom. Aaron volunteers to sleep on the living room couch, which neither Thomas nor James protest. 

Once they get back, James has a sudden moment of compassion for Aaron, the completely neglected third wheel, and mentions, “So I heard you have a date tonight.”

“Wherever did you get that idea?” Aaron keeps his face calm. 

Thomas and James share a meaningful glance. “With Alex?” James prompts. 

“I’m not dating Alex,” Aaron insists. “I’m not gay.”

Thomas laughs. “Yeah, and I’m not gay either.” He pecks James on the cheek. James stammers a bit. 

The pair retreats to the bedroom and shuts the door. A minute later, Thomas opens the door, pokes his head out, and yells, “Wear that grey jacket with those blue trousers! You are going to knock him dead!” Before Aaron can protest, Thomas winks at him lasciviously then slams the door shut. Aaron hears the click of the lock. He sighs. Why was everyone getting the wrong idea? 

Nevertheless, Aaron follows Thomas’s advice. 

*

Aaron arrives at the theatre promptly at 7:00. A serpentine line two blocks long undulates by him. Alex spots him first, beckons him join the group. Aaron sees that Angelica and Eliza have brought their respective boyfriends and their little sister Peggy, but the only one he really notices is Alex, who wears an emerald green sport jacket and skinny jeans that hug his calves in the most provocative manner. His hair frames his face and brushes his shoulders cunningly. For a fleeting moment, Aaron thinks Alex is beautiful. 

They file to the back of the line, where Angelica, the clear authority of the group, hands everyone a printout from Ticketmaster. They miraculously have tickets in the mezzanine. In a blur of movement, the line inches closer to the front of the theatre. Alex squeals when he sees the sign. “Aaron, we gotta take a picture!” So while the line pauses, Alex and Aaron pose under the sign to take a selfie. It’s a cute picture. Alex looks happier than he’s been for months, and Aaron wears a real smile, not his practiced, professional smile. 

Once they file into the theatre, the line clumps into masses of people climbing up and down stairs. The Schuyler sisters, evidently unfazed by the lights and glamour of Broadway, shove their way up the stairs to the mezzanine. Aaron coincidentally sits on the edge, next to Alex. Alex entreats him to take another selfie, to which he obliges. They keep taking selfies with whatever there is – the stage, the playbill, the sisters – until an usher orders them to put their phones away. 

The lights dim. A deep, smooth voice begins a soliloquy about the bastard protagonist, and Aaron believes it’s going to be even better than he imagined. 

Three remarkable hours later, they rise and give a standing ovation, tears streaming down their faces. Aaron’s listened to the soundtrack at least a million billion times, and he’s still moved by it all. Ushers direct the audience out of the theatre. The audience flows out slowly, chattering about their favorite characters and scenes and songs as if that would preserve tonight’s magic. They’re running out of time. 

Aaron thanks the Schuylers, turns to go to the hotel. 

“Wait! Let me walk you back!” Alex calls out. Aaron doesn’t argue. 

They stroll together in companionable silence. A few minutes before they reach Aaron’s hotel, Alex blurts out, “There’s this new song I’m obsessed with. It’s covered by two of the actors we saw tonight.”

“Let’s listen to it.” Aaron reaches in his pocket to retrieve his phone, but Alex already has his out and shoves one of his earbuds towards him a little too eagerly. Aaron takes the right earbud and waits for Alex to start the song. The musical’s narrator counts to four. A soulful beat echoes in their ears. Aaron recognizes the song and unconsciously lip-synchs along. 

When the rapping section starts, Aaron can tell it’s different. He doesn’t know the lyrics to this version, but Alex does, judging by his moving lips. Aaron thinks he’s just lip-synching until they stop in front of the hotel and he hears a definite dissonance. He removes the earbud and realizes that Alex is actually rapping and is touching his cheek and gazing into his eyes, as if he means every word of the sensual ballad. 

All at once, it hits him. This is a date. Alex likes him. Alex is serenading him in an Alex-like way. The song is over. Alex extends a hand and asks, “I had a great time tonight. Would you like to do this again?” 

*

Aaron stares at the hand, then Alex’s hopeful face. His mind is a whirlwind of their conversations, their touches, the songs they shared, the kiss only one of them remembers. He imagines spooning the shorter man close to his body and caressing his mane and exchanging kisses out of curiosity instead of tragedy. He’s about to say yes…

A cruel, deep voice cuts through his rainbow visions of past and future. “Your mother was a genius; your father commanded respect.” Higher pitched voices flood his fantasy. “He’s after you because you’re the Burr heir.” “This immigrant, bastard, son of a whore has nothing but a couple of college credits.” “He’s penniless.” The first voice screams until Aaron sees nothing but a hurricane of fire devour his body and drag him into the earth. 

Aaron flinches from Alex’s hand. Alex looks at him, doe-eyed, as if he thinks he hallucinated Aaron’s movement, and reaches towards Aaron again. 

“No,” Aaron hisses. He crosses his arms across his chest, hands tucked below his elbows. “I don’t want you, Alex,” he says with only a hint of a quaver. He swears his soul rips itself in two that moment. 

Alex’s entire face falls and becomes pale, mouth agape. Finally, he whispers, “Goodbye.” He runs away. It begins to drizzle as Aaron goes inside, numb. 

Aaron paces up to the room, murmuring, “You have a legacy to protect.”

Aaron and Alex never speak again.


	2. Alternate Ending

Aaron stares at the hand, then Alex’s hopeful face. His mind is a whirlwind of their conversations, their touches, the songs they shared, the kiss only one of them remembers. He imagines spooning the shorter man close to his body and caressing his mane and exchanging kisses out of curiosity instead of tragedy. He’s about to say yes…

A cruel, deep voice cuts through his rainbow visions of past and future. “Your mother was a genius; your father commanded respect.” Higher pitched voices flood his fantasy. “He’s after you because you’re the Burr heir.” “This immigrant, bastard, son of a whore has nothing but a couple of college credits.” “He’s penniless.” The first voice screams until Aaron sees nothing but a hurricane of fire devour his body and drag him into the earth. 

Suddenly, a strange woman’s voice interrupts. “What is a legacy? It’s writing some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for thee. This boy wants to create music with you.” 

A thin scrapbook appears in his mind. Aaron flips it open. There’s Alex and Laurens’s first photo together. It used to cause Aaron grief, but now it gives him hope. Flip. There’s Thomas and James, attached at the hip, as they always are. Flip. There’s that old photo of Aaron Burr, Sr. and Esther Edwards Burr, except they are clearly smiling. There’s only one more page in the scrapbook but Aaron knows what the last page is without looking. 

He blinks, returning to reality. Alex looks at him, doe-eyed. 

Aaron knows the right answer. “Yes, I would.” 

Alex’s face lights up as bright as the sun itself. Unable to contain his relief, he spills a jumble of words that sounds more like alphabet soup than a coherent sentence. They arrange to meet up in NYC in two weeks for a movie. 

Alex turns to head back, but Aaron stops him. “Wait!”Aaron closes the distance between them and kisses Alex, sucking his lower lip. Alex explores Aaron’s mouth with his tongue, tentatively at first but bolder with each movement. They kiss in the streets until they hear someone above yell “Get a room!” They look up and see Thomas spying on them from the third floor. 

Aaron waves goodbye, heads inside, then glances back on a whim, catching Alex in the middle of a victory dance. He smirks at Alex once he notices he’s being watched. Alex reddens slightly before leaving. The night remains clear and comfortably cool. 

That night, Aaron dreams of his parents. He is a six-year-old. His parents hold him in their laps while they take photos. His mother produces a scrapbook from nowhere. The first page is Alex and Laurens. The second is Thomas and James. The third is a family portrait of the Burrs, including little Aaron. Aaron can tell it’s the same scrapbook as before, but there are more pages. Flip. It’s Aaron and Alex standing in front of Richard Rodgers Theatre. Flip. Flip flip flip. The rest of the pages are blank except for the same words under each empty frame: Aaron and Alex: Our Legacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been procrastinating posting the alternate ending to this story. Sorry! I haven't looked at this in months and don't know if I can look at my old writing without cringing. 
> 
> When I was writing this, I wrote both endings. I couldn't bear to write only the bad ending.


End file.
